Chapter 3 - A Deadly LeakMaxwell stared at his nephew, seeing him through an entirely different lens for the first time. Thomas was ambitious, ruthless, and entirely too comfortable with corporate espionage.
"Security isn't offline," Maxwell said coldly. "At least, not according to the logs. How did you bypass the biometric lock with my personal override code, Thomas?"
Thomas’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, smoothing his expression into one of offended amusement. "Uncle, please. You gave me that code three years ago when we merged the logistics divisions. Now, move aside. Is that a homeless child in your cabin? If the press gets ahold of this—if a vagrant died on the flagship property of Anderson Holdings during a hostile takeover—our stock will crater by noon."
"She’s not just a vagrant," Maxwell said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She carries a Vance crest."
The color drained entirely from Thomas’s face. The slick, confident corporate heir vanished, replaced by a cornered animal.
"You're imagining things," Thomas stammered, taking a nervous step backward toward the exit hatch. "The Vances were liquidated decades ago. Uncle, you've been working too hard. Let me call an ambulance for the kid, and let's get you back to the penthouse."
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"Don't move," Maxwell commanded, his hand slipping into his coat pocket where his phone rested on an active recording app connected to his personal legal counsel. "We aren't calling an ambulance, Thomas. We're calling the police. And you're going to explain why your private offshore accounts show recurring wire transfers to a shell corporation registered in the exact same coastal town where the Vances lost everything."
Thomas froze, his hand hovering inches from the exterior door release. The rain lashed furiously against the yacht’s reinforced glass windows, sounding like a drumbeat of impending doom.
